The Right Thief
by MsMojoRisin42
Summary: Just a little falling in bed story I found on my drive while organizing files. Not part of my other series.


Sometime after the bomb went off...

He found the fence in a surprisingly middle class section of London. The grandfatherly man with the killer's eyes assured him he knew just the right person who could acquire what he needed. He gave the man the Paris address, reminding him to send an exceptional thief.

But the first thief was the wrong one. The man was slight and wiry and wholly unwelcome in Bruce Wayne's lavish Parisian bedroom.

The second thief was the one he wanted.

A few days after Bruce had tossed the wrong thief out the window, the other one, the right one, crept silently through the same oversized window that faced the crowded street below. The long hours waiting combined with the darkness and the comfort of the chair wasn't helping him stay awake so if not for the quick sound of street traffic as the window briefly opened, Bruce believed he may have missed the thief's entrance entirely.

He felt a rush of adrenaline as he recognized the lithe figure creeping silently through the living area of his suite. The windows let in enough light so that her night vision goggles weren't necessary and she didn't notice him sitting in the easy chair in a dark corner.

Crouching in front of the elaborate armoire, Selina started to work on the safe that was definitely not uncrackable. When she realized the safe was open, her body tensed and her head tilted a little when she saw what was inside.

She was silent for a few moments. "Those aren't the diamonds I was expecting," she said without turning around.

"I thought you liked pearls," he said from the darkened corner.

Sighing loudly, she rose and turned around, her arms folding above her chest.

"You're hard to find," Bruce stated then rose from the chair.

The side of her mouth curved in a grin. "That's the point," she said, shaking her head a little so that her dark hair fell over her shoulders.

"Back in business, I see," he remarked as his gaze slowly traveled from the goggles on her head over the black skin tight outfit that he was having a very difficult time keeping his hands off of.

Her chin lifted a little. "Yeah, that office job just didn't work out."

"Why London?" He asked.

"Easily navigable rooftops," she answered.

"You left Gotham sooner than I thought you would."

"You died," she retorted.

He liked what he heard in her tone and smiled in the darkness. "Not quite," he said.

"I see that." Her voice was husky, drawing him closer.

They stood close but apart, her high heeled boots making their eyes almost level.

"This is a bad idea," she told him firmly but he heard no conviction in her tone.

"I don't think so," he disagreed as he unbuckled the utility belt around her hips.

"Yeah, I can see that you don't." Her eyes followed the belt as he tossed it to the floor.

"So stop me," he challenged meeting her eyes.

She gazed at him for a few long moments. He tensed wondering if he was going to get hit but then she asked in that sultry tone he loved: "And why would I do that?"

He smiled. "I can't think of a reason," he said as his hands strayed to her waist before gliding over her hips.

"You like that," she drawled quietly, watching him, letting him feel her.

"I do." His hands continued sliding over the slick fabric of her suit, touching the material that exhibited her curves so seductively. His hands slid lower over her hips, his fingers feeling their way along her thigh until they reached the top of her thigh high boots. "I like these, too, but they look a little dangerous for what I have in mind."

"You think you have this all figured out, don't you?"

"Yes," he answered, nudging her leg up so that her foot rested on a small end table. While he waited for his thief to break in, he'd had plenty of time to think about the things he wanted to do to her. And here she was, looking better than he remembered.

"Careful with the heels," she warned before he peeled off her boots.

As if in relief to be rid of what Bruce must imagine great stress, her toes with the bright red polish curled into the thick carpet.

"Better?" he asked.

"Almost," she answered before pulling off her goggles and mask. "This isn't going to work," she told him matter of factly.

"Why?" He asked, genuinely curious why she thought it wouldn't when he believed the opposite.

"Because you're you and I'm me."

He didn't care for that answer and chose to give in to his impulse to unzip the zipper that had tantalized him since the first moment he saw it. He unzipped until he'd reached the valley between her breasts and was only the slightest bit disappointed that she wasn't naked underneath. Quietly, he released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. She wore a black lacy bra that, if he opened the top of the suit further, he would find her nipples perfectly exposed to his eager gaze.

"You're not listening," she chastised but her own interest in what was happening between them was made apparent when she began to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt, her gloved hands running lightly over his chest as she worked.

"No," he agreed then unzipped further fascinated by the vision of the inky black of her suit against her white skin.

He let go of the zipper as she eased his shirt off his shoulders, their eyes never wavering from each other's gaze. She leaned closer to work the shirt down his arms. Close enough that there was scant inches between them, he could feel her heat but not her skin.

After the shirt dropped to the floor, Bruce caught her hands and peeled off her gloves. He took her hand, his first contact with her skin since they had danced almost a year ago, and kissed her palm.

Unlike his batsuit, her costume was wonderfully easy to slide off. She stepped out of it, kicked it away from her then led him to the bedroom. He followed, his eyes appreciating the image of her clad only in thong and bra.

"Sorry about the diamonds," he said, his lips hovering just over hers.

Selina smiled at him. "No, you're not."


End file.
